


Just tell me...

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Series: Tumblr Ficlets & Prompts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Mycroft reveals something he'd like to try and Greg indulges him willingly.





	Just tell me...

The bed dips and the blanket moves across Greg‘s legs. He blinks sleepily, expecting to see the light of day, but the room is in twilight still, and the sun has not risen yet. He wonders for a second if Mycroft has been called in again, but he doesn‘t remember hearing his phone. Greg opens his eyes completely and smiles as he sees Mycroft sitting on the edge of the bed, turned away from him, still as bare as they had fallen asleep.

He feels a warm wave of remembered pleasure as his thoughts drift back to the night before. Mycroft had surprised him with a Valentine‘s date, a homecooked meal and roses. They had only been in a relationship for a few months and Mycroft had never made Greg feel like he celebrated days like that, so it had been a pleasant surprise. Much more even so once they had made it to the bedroom.

Greg lets his eyes roam over Mycroft‘s body. There are scratches on his back, red and angry. Greg remembers putting them there, as he had held Mycroft down, pressed him into the bed. Further down… he sees bruises blooming over his partner‘s hip, blue and red against the creamy, white skin. Then he sees Mycroft tentatively put his fingers on the bruises, tracing their edges, as if he is assessing the damage. Greg is about to make himself known, apologise for his treatment, when Mycroft presses down on the largest bruise on his right side and the noise he makes is anything other than pain.

He moans low, quietly, as if he doesn‘t want to disturb Greg‘s sleep, and Greg grows hard in a second. Mycroft continues his exploration, pressing ever harder, until his breathing speeds up and Greg hears the unmistakable sound of him taking himself in hand.

„Mycroft,“ he whispers, almost not daring to interrupt.

Greg sees the other man freeze for a second, his head move, but not daring to turn around. Before Mycroft can do anything as stupid as running away, he reaches out and grabs the hand where it is still placed on Mycroft‘s hip. Mycroft finally looks back, but then Greg squeezes hard and Mycroft is gone. He throws his head back and groans. His body turns and Greg can see his left hand tightening. Then he looks back at Greg, eyes wide and unsure.

„So, this…?“

„Yes,“ Mycroft whispers. „I…“

Mycroft trails off, apparently not sure what to say.

„It‘s okay,“ Greg assures him.

Mycroft sighs and lets himself fall onto the bed next to Greg, but his left hand is still wrapped around the evidence of his arousal.

„Please… touch me,“ he says quietly.

Greg pushes himself up on his elbows and looks down at his lover. He reaches out with his hand and lets it glide through Mycroft‘s hair to the back of his head.

„Touch you? Don‘t you mean this?“

He grips Mycroft’s hair hard and the reaction is explosive. The man arches off the bed, hand speeding up again where it had remained still before. The noise he makes is filthy enough to make Greg blush.

„Darling, I‘d love to give you what you need, but I don‘t want to hurt you…“ he says as he applies his lips to Mycroft‘s exposed throat.

„I‘ll tell you when it gets to much for me to bear,“ Mycroft says.

„And how much can you bear?“

„You‘d be surprised,“ Greg hears him chuckle deeply. „I don‘t have a safeword just for show.“

„A safeword? What is it?“

Mycroft hesitates a second, then he says: „Norway.“

„Norway? Really?“ Greg lets go of Mycroft‘s hair and laughs.

„Yes, Gregory. It‘s supposed to be a word you‘d not utter in this context by chance. Or do you think I‘d ask you to spank me like we‘re in Norway?“

Greg grins. „So that‘s what you want right now? With your lovely arse already blue like that?“

Mycroft blushes and turns his head, but Greg buries his hand in the short hair again and forces him to look back at him. He can see Mycroft‘s chest rise and fall with quick, short breaths. Then he nods. Greg reaches down with his other hand and joins Mycroft‘s left one, stroking hard and simultaneously kisses the man in his arms until he is squirming. He releases him suddenly, without warning, and Mycroft is about to complain when he sees Greg grinning again.

„Then kindly arrange yourself over my lap.“

Mycroft doesn‘t have to be told twice.

The man is a vision. He is always breathtaking. There is no other way to describe it. But in that moment Greg feels like he is learning a whole new appreciation for the man draping himself across his lap. Greg has drawn himself up to sit against the headboard and watches Mycroft slide into position, head to the left, arse presented perfectly for his right hand. It’s not the best position for this, but Greg has a feeling it’s not really about that right now.

He brings his hand down gently on Mycroft’s back, but his partner jolts at the slightest touch. As he carefully strokes the smooth skin, he actually hears Mycroft grumble.

“Gregory…”

“What is it, darling?”

“That’s not–”

“Shhh, don’t rush it. You’re all tense.”

Mycroft sighs and presses his face into the blanket he had already grasped in preparation, but his body doesn’t relax. Greg tangles his left hand in Mycroft’s hair and starts rubbing the skin until he feels some of the tension go. His other hand wanders ever downward, tracing the bruises as Mycroft did earlier. The last thing he wants Mycroft to be is nervous. This is new to both of them.

“At the risk of repeating myself, and as much as I enjoy this…” Mycroft trails off as Greg’s hand tightens in his hair.

“Eager, are we? Then beg.”

Mycroft gasps as his head is pulled back and the other hand is resting on his arse like a promise. But Greg can already see the red creeping down Mycroft’s neck. He loves the way his partner blushes with his whole body, the white skin turning a pretty pink.

“I don’t think I will,” Mycroft manages to squeeze out. He could easily move his head back to release the strain on his hair, but he actually leans against it. His breathing has sped up again, the tension returned, his cock presses heavily against Greg’s legs.

“I know you don’t beg, but I’d like to hear it anyway.”

“You’re an evil man, Gregory.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“God help me, I do,” Mycroft laughs, but then Greg’s hand tightens again and at the same time he brings down his hand for the first time.

It lands squarely in the middle of Mycroft’s arse, and chokes off his laugh. Mycroft is so surprised, he even forgets to moan. He doesn’t forget on the second strike, or any of the three that follow.

If there had been any doubt about Mycroft’s willing participation, the way he is rubbing himself against Greg’s legs eradicates the last shred. With every strike he cries out with what sounds like a gasp and a sigh of relief. After five, Greg has to pause. He is breathing almost as heavily as Mycroft, looking down in awe at the man, who is already quivering in his lap.

Just how badly had Mycroft wanted this?

Greg removes his left hand from Mycroft’s hair and uses it to turn the man’s head towards him. Their eyes meet, but Mycroft’s are already unfocused, tears forming at the edges.

“The first five were just to warm you up. The next ten are for keeping this from me. Brace yourself.”

Mycroft draws in a breath, but he has no time to prepare himself. Greg is relentless, hitting every place he deems suitable, but carefully avoiding the areas already bruised. Mycroft’s head is turned away again, but Greg’s hears the tears in his voice, feels his cock twitch against his legs, sees the hands grabbing oh so tightly on the blanket.

Then he’s done, both men breathing as if they had run a marathon, sweat forming on their skin. Mycroft is shivering, rutting, sobbing. Then he turns his head towards Greg, cheek still resting on the bed. His fingers release the cloth and he arranges his hands behind his back, grasps his left wrist with his right hand to keep them there. His face is red, tearstained and so incredibly beautiful Greg almost forgets to breath.

“Gregory… please…” Mycroft whispers, voice broken.

The way he currently looks could easily mean he wants Greg to stop, but the way he has offered himself in obvious submission speaks an entirely different language. Greg wants to ask him, but he is reluctant to break the moment. That’s what safewords are for, after all. Not that he would let it come to that. So he just nods and reaches for Mycroft’s hands with his left one and presses him down before he draws himself up and continues his treatment.

How could they have never done this before? Greg dares to hit as hard as he thinks Mycroft can bear, and then some more, and his lover is completely and absolutely gone. His face hangs slack with a mixture of pleasure and pain, brows drawn together, mouth open with continuous gasps. He is rutting against Greg in earnest, and he is so hard, Greg thinks he will have a bruise of his own. Then is babbling. Greg’s name, encouragements, nonsense. He doesn’t even seem to realise he’s doing it.

Greg is about to stop when he hears a change in Mycroft’s breathing. It speeds up like it always does when… No… It couldn’t be…

“Gregory…” Mycroft breathes and then he stills, spilling over Greg’s legs, quivering so much, Greg has to hold him down, which only seems to spur Mycroft on. It seems to go on forever, but then, finally he goes slack in Greg’s grip. Greg lets go immediately and rolls Mycroft over.

Mycroft lies on his back, breathing barely under control, tears still flowing freely and he reaches blindly for Greg, who gathers Mycroft into his arms and holds him close until he calms down, stroking his hair and whispering sweet endearments, kissing away his tears. After a few long minutes, Mycroft’s eyes focus on Greg again.

“Thank you,” he breathes, voice full of wonder. “I didn’t… I never…”

“Don’t worry, I enjoyed myself quite a bit.”

Mycroft actually giggles and buries his face in Greg’s chest.

“I don’t think we can repeat this soon, no matter how much I’d want to,” he sighs. “I’ll be happy if I can even sit down in the next few days.”

“We could try it the other way around…”

“What?” Mycroft looks up and searches for Greg’s eyes, but he sees no evidence of a joke in them. “Why?”

“I’ve never thought about it before, but you make it look… enticing.”

Mycroft laughs and presses a kiss to Greg’s lips.

“Everything you want, my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> That was my very first Mystrade! Originally posted on my tumblr :)


End file.
